A Route Well Traveled
by drif
Summary: Life twists, and life turns, and no one should know this better than Andrew McAllister. Born to train, trained to lead, and lead down a different path than expected, Drew learns that that a circuitous journey might be better than a straight-shot to the end. "A Route Well Traveled" is a fake memoir that follows Drew from early childhood to adulthood.


_For man also knoweth not his time: as the fishes that are taken in an evil net, and as the birds that are caught in the snare; so are the sons of men snared in an evil time, when it falleth suddenly upon them__._

Ecclesiastes 9:12

o-o-o-o

I was sitting in the passenger's seat of the BMW, running over each line of the eulogy I had prepared for the next day, when I looked out the window and saw Henry helping carry Drayden's casket up the stairs of the Opelucid Cathedral. It was just before dark. The wispy, golden-hued clouds of the summer evening rested just above the horizon, as a calm summer breeze gently shuffled the flags on the street corner. We were stuck in traffic.

The casket was no further than twenty feet away. It was a simple blue on black design— a color scheme that was all too familiar to me. It was strange to see Henry dressed up so nicely (albeit the three piece he was wearing looked cheap), but even his wardrobe couldn't mask the signature attitudes and mannerisms of an old gym lackey. His hair, which I was used to being a dirty blond, had gone completely silver over the years, but he still resembled the Henry I used to know, the one running around the gym and cleaning up messes we made and being scolded by the big man himself.

It had been a good two decades since I last laid eyes on him, and when he looked up, I was overcome with panic that he'd see me and call out my name, and that someone on the way to the same funeral would spot us together and he would introduce me to them and my secret would be out.

I slid down in my seat and asked for Thomas to turn the car around and drop me off at the hotel.

"You alright, Dad?"

"Yeah." I swallowed "Just forgot my papers, that's all." A lie, but I didn't care.

Audrey shot me a concerned glance. "Drew—"

"I'm fine, hon." I pointed out the front windshield. "Just go, Tom." He nodded.

Thomas pulled up in front of our hotel, the doorman held the door for me, and the elevator took me up to my floor. I told Audrey and Thomas to head back to the visitation, and that I would just grab a taxi when I finished my business, which was going to "take a little more time than I thought it was."

The freshly pressed sheets of the hard hotel bed greeted me as I collapsed on it, heart beating heavily. I was still rattled from seeing Henry. I should have seen it coming, him paying respects to arguably the most influential man in his life, but it never crossed my mind that _he_ was going to be there.

I drew open the curtains of the balcony window and looked outside. There were the old brown bricks of the road that still hadn't been replaced, the pokemart I had probably kept alive with all my purchases, the pokecenter that I had spent far too much time at, and just beyond it, the old gym.

I used to call that place my home, and treated like the place that I would continue to call my home into my adult life. But I could never go back after I left. It hurt too much to be back in my city of dreams, moreso a graveyard of my dreams now. I wanted out, wanted nothing to do with the old man's funeral, and I wouldn't have made a single step back into the damned city if I wasn't convinced by Audrey that I was even wanted, if not needed, back.

After seeing Henry, I hated myself— hated my designer clothes, my car, and the life I was living. I never wanted what I had.

And just as suddenly as my self-loathing began, my phone rang. It was Henry, of course it was; he must have seen Audrey. I shoved the phone back into my pocket, and heard each ring get louder and louder as if he knew I was there, knew I was ignoring him. As soon as the ringtone subsided, I checked the voicemail.

Five minutes, bar across the street. Show up or face hell tomorrow.

I gulped.

Henry was sitting at the bar, making light conversation with someone he probably just met, when I walked in. He'd really made an effort to fix himself up for tonight. His wrist was sporting a gold watch, and his face was actually clean shaven.

He waved enthusiastically when he saw me. "And there he is, Mr. Andrew McAllister himself," he said, flashing a toothy grin. I shook his hand. "What's with all the formality? Come here." I soon found myself trapped in a bear hug.

We ordered. Henry, a craft beer, and a Moscow mule for myself.

Henry laughed. "Never took you for the fancy type, Drew," he poked.

"Me neither."

He started talking about the new champion. He'd learned that she wasn't a native Unovan, coming from our "cousins" up north. Her battle style could use some improvement, as far as he was concerned. Besides her ninetales, there wasn't another standout pokemon on her team.

I looked down at my drink the entire time, watching the ice swirl around in the copper mug.

His smile faded. "Tell me what I can do to help."

"Not even a quick hello?" I stiffened.

He glared at me. "Audrey told me what happened. She said you looked like you were going to pass out. What's up with that?" It amazed me that Henry's personality hadn't changed a bit. Just as disarming as I remembered.

"What makes you think I want to talk to you about that? It's been twenty or so years and you haven't even asked me how I've been."

"You came, didn't you?"

"I was threatened," I deadpanned.

Henry chuckled and ran a hand through his silver hair. "That's besides the point."

I sighed. "Just nerves, you know? I haven't spoken in front of a big group in a while."

Henry rolled his eyes. "Be serious. That's not the Drew I know. Plus, Audrey also mentioned something about your teaching gig at Lacunosa University."

"I _am _serious. I don't teach huge lectures. The sanctuary's packed."

"You're speaking _tomorrow_," he retorted almost instantly. "I want to know about _today_."

I took a sip of the concoction in my hands, letting out a deep breath as it warmed my chest, staying silent.

"Come on, Drew." Henry's shoulders tightened up, something I remembered he used to do when outclassed in a battle. "What's actually going on?" He was concerned, I could see it in his face, a type of genuineness only Henry could demonstrate.

I opened my mouth to speak, only to hesitate and purse my lips. Henry raised his eyebrows. "I saw you and a few other old gym trainers out on the steps."

"Well yeah, we were getting ready for the visitation. Why didn't you say hello?"

"I was too ashamed, Henry, I hid."

Henry snorted. "And what you could you _possibly_ be ashamed of? Your six digit salary? Your smokin' hot wife? Your—"

My fist hit the table with more force than I would have liked. I knew what I had. I knew what I had come to love and I didn't need another reminder. "I'm ashamed of the life I'm living, Henry."

Henry's mouth hung open, surprised. His shoulders fell. "How could you be ashamed? You're far more successful that I could ever dream of being," he said, gesturing vaguely.

"Not as far as I'm concerned."

Henry raised an eyebrow.

"What do I say when people ask who I am? Do I tell them that I was one of Drayden's favorites? That I was in line to be the next gym leader?"

Henry shifted in his seat, looking down at his beer.

"What do I do when they ask why I never took the position, that I never lived my biggest, and only dream?"

A silence grew between us while I tried the swallow down the lump that was growing in my throat.

Henry cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose you could start by telling the truth."


End file.
